Shaken, Stirred
by afriendcandide
Summary: 'Tony furrowed his brow even further. "I know he's rude. Who buys a woman a drink when she's obviously with someone? For all he knows, I could be your husband."' Tag to the bar scene in Berlin. Tony and Ziva get their dance. One-shot.


**AN: Tag to the dance/bar possibilities in the upcoming episode, Berlin! Something I could realistically see happening in the episode. Enjoy!**

"Compliments from the gentleman at the end." Said the bartender, sliding Ziva funneled glass.

"But I do not…" He was already attending to an inpatient businessman. Ziva clutched Tony's elbow. "Bodner. He has spotted us."

Tony grabbed her shoulders and shifted Ziva to the other side of him. "He's less likely to recognize me. I'll look." Ziva felt her heart beat through her throat, her blood pulsing, dangerously preparing her for an outburst. She grabbed Tony's elbow tighter as he peered over the rest of the bar patrons.

"So?" Tony turned to face her with a look Ziva couldn't quite place. "How many of his men are with him?"

Tony furrowed his brow and ground his teeth. "It's not Bodner." He pushed the martini farther away from them, out of Ziva's reach. "Just some over-gelled chump. Cheap suit."

"And he bought me a martini?" Ziva bemused. She enjoyed watching the creases form in Tony's forehead.

"Big deal. Pretty rude if you ask me. I'm standing right here!" Ziva leaned around him to get a look at her admirer, but Tony mirrored her movements to block her view. "Don't look over there, you'll just encourage him. He's waving at you. Honestly, the nerve!"

Ziva took a quick look around the other side before he could get in the way. She knew he was doing his best to hide his jealousy, but it wasn't enough to cover up his tensed posture and gritted teeth. She couldn't help but take the bait. "Maybe I want to encourage him, Tony." He opened he mouth to protest. "You got a better look than I did. Is he cute?"

Tony furrowed his brow even further. "I know he's rude. Who buys a woman a drink when she's obviously with someone? For all he knows, I could be your husband."

Ziva smiled; she couldn't help herself. "No ring, Tony. Maybe he is particularly clairvoyant and knows we're not together whatsoever."

He deflated, and Ziva felt a twinge of guilt. Her words didn't sit right, only a half truth. They might not be together, but she knew they were certainly not separate.

"Oh dear Lord, he's coming right over." Tony groaned. Ziva peered over his shoulder- he hadn't been exaggerating. The man had a tan polyester suit, hair gelled to proportions that defied certain properties of gravity, and an annoyingly confident gait as he approached the two agents. Tony repeated his groan. "Do you want me to..?"

"He _is _cute!" Ziva lied. "Turn away." She pushed on his shoulder.

"Are you serious?" The corners of his lips turned down in hurt. Ziva felt the twinge resurface, but buried it beneath her plan.

The man reached her spot at the bar, and sat one elbow on the counter, leaning in to the structure. Ziva wondered how hair could be bother over-gelled and that greasy simultaneously. "Hi there. My name is Jason. Did you enjoy the martini?"

Ziva smiled politely, and looked over her shoulder towards her partner. Tony was faced away, attempting to discretely eavesdrop over his own shoulder. "Sorry, Jason, I am flattered, but I am more of a mojito woman."

The man was unfazed. "That can be arranged..." He reached his hand across the bartop to put it next to Ziva's. "You don't sound German. Spanish? What brings you to Berlin? Business? Pleasure?"

Ziva pulled her hand back, and her polite grin faded into a tight line. "Pleasure." She squared her shoulders. "I am actually her on vacation, with my boyfriend." She said with added volume, twisting to open the conversation to the not-so-secret third party, and reached back to grab Tony's arm.

Tony wasted no time swooping in. "Hello, beautiful. The drinks should be just a minute." He rested his hand on her shoulder. "Who is our new friend?" He asked, unable to contain his giant grin.

'This is..."

"Mr. Not-impressed." The man deadpanned.

Tony tightened his grip on her shoulder. "Well, Mr. Not-impressed, it's nice to meet you." He reached across Ziva to grab her hand. "They're playing our song." He pulled her off her position at the bar towards the throng of couples, all shifting themselves from the former fast-paced crowd into slower and more intimate pairs. Ziva's eyes widened with his direction.

Still making their way out, she watched tony Turn back towards the bar. "Israeli, by the way. Israel is the country you were looking for." Tony quipped towards the the annoyed man. "You should really work on your accents."

Ziva looked back at the bar apologetically and playfully hit Tony's shoulder. "Be nice."

"Sorry." They made it out to the dancefloor, smoothly sliding into their coupled position. She continued to hold his hand, and brought her other to rest on the warmth where his chest and shoulder met. She felt his large hand slide slow and steady from the crook in her shoulder to her hip, his palm flat on the side of it, his thumb resting just above the curve of her hipbone. She momentarily tensed from the welcome but personal move, relaxing when she looked up and shared a grin with him.

"I should be mad at you, you know." Tony said, gently moving them in a sway to the slow beat. "That was more than a little cruel."

"I could not help myself. You are usually the one having fun at my expense."

"That wasn't what I would call fun, Ziva." He smiled and stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. She felt her breath catch in her throat.

"Well... I am not dancing with him." She said, tilting her head to the side.

"I guess that's true. You got me good."

Ziva swallowed as she let the music and his strong hand at her side fill her headspace. Their silence was accompanied by Tony pulling her closer, their distance slowly but noticeably being replaced by their synced bodies. She silently appreciated her choice of a long sleeved dress, the flowing fabric mercifully covering her goosebumps. She wondered if his skin matched hers under his characteristic suit.

She felt his grasp on her hip tighten. "Ziva." He hesitated and she saw his Adam's apple bob. She could swear she'd felt it in their proximity. "Did you.. .would you say that we are not together?"

She inhaled and shut her eyes. His cologne distracted her, filled herself with the sweet musk she'd memorized over the years. She struggled to respond. "Well." _Sandalwood. _"I would say that we are... not apart."

Tony chuckled. "I'll take it."

She looked up slowly, meeting his eyes and locking their contact. She had to know. "And... and you?"

Tony's smile relaxed into a strong line. Ziva felt the playfulness evaporate, felt his breathing shallow as they moved even closer. Too much more of this, and Ziva feared she would collapse entirely, that her skin and self and bones would peel away and leave her as nothing. Where would there be room for her, when his presence so often became her everything? She couldn't help but melt before he had even given his answer.

"I would say..." Nearly pressed to each other, she felt him stroke the patch above her hipbone with his thumb, catalyzing a dangerously strong reaction from her lower belly. "I wouldn't be dancing with anyone else."

Instantly, eight years of self-control and attraction discipline fell to the floor, attached to the bead of sweat she felt make its way down the curve of her spine. She reminded herself to breathe. His eyes were darkened, and she wondered what he saw in her face at that moment. Still in their soft sway, she felt him leaning towards her, their recent admissions dissipating any need for them to have space between them. Her eyes locked on his lips, pink and parted, their shape long burned into the back of her mind.

Applause. The couples around them had all began clapping with the songs end. Ziva's attention turned, taking in the couple central to the dancefloor. The man had the woman dipped low to the ground, her lengthy red satin dress slit to her thigh, draping around her body and touching the floor. Another song began, and the couples all returned to their positions. The central couple stood straight out of their bows. Ziva turned back, Tony's hands still in her grasp and at her side. His eyes were closed, his lips pursed. Ziva moved her hand to softly stroke his neck. "Sorry, they were..."

Tony looked down. "I know." He paused. "We'll get our moment."

Ziva nodded. Disappointment sunk into her stomach. He held her hand tighter; the new song was much slower and softer. Ziva relaxed, assured he wasn't angry. She closed the distance between their arms, pulled him tighter into her to secure him out of his flight risk. She needed him to know that she wouldn't be the one to leave.

She brought the side of her head to his chest hesitantly, gently at first, testing his reaction. She felt him tense and give the slightest, almost inaudible gasp. He pulled her tighter, and she let his chest have her full weight. "I would not be here with anyone else, either." She knew he wasn't going anywhere.


End file.
